


refraction

by freloux



Series: a sticky sweet romance [2]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Creampie, Drunken Kissing, F/M, Threesome - F/F/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-18
Updated: 2017-10-18
Packaged: 2019-01-19 06:39:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12405048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freloux/pseuds/freloux
Summary: It's like they're taking care of her.





	refraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [UniverseOnHerShoulders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UniverseOnHerShoulders/gifts).



> Thank you for the prompt, girl! ;)

Veronica is so _soft_. She’s wearing this long, drapey black dress with a sheer overlay that swishes when she moves. It doesn’t itch Betty’s skin at all; it just brushes against her legs, her thighs - not quite ticklish, just filmy. This close she can smell Veronica's perfume and sweat gone damp and hot. Her hair is getting all caught in Betty’s hands.

There’s the sound of the club all around them - the drone of music, some club hit. The din of people shouting, talking, dancing, that numb roar of going wild. But here, it’s a dark little corner, and Veronica is smiling against Betty’s mouth. Plush lips, sticky with gloss.

It makes Betty think about Veronica in her room: standing in front of her vanity, sliding the gloss over her lips, spraying her wrists with perfume. This blurts into picturing Veronica getting ready naked, maybe smirking at herself in the mirror, posing, because she knows she looks damn good.

Kissing girls - kissing Veronica - tastes different than kissing Jughead. Veronica tastes like sugar sweet lipgloss and the clear bitterness of alcohol. She slides her tongue into Betty’s mouth, along her teeth, dipping into the pocket under Betty’s tongue. Exploring. Close, and closer still, like she wants to drink all of her in, all at once. There’s a gentleness here as well: Veronica is cupping Betty’s face with her hands and she rubs her fingertips ever so slightly, in tiny circles, just under Betty’s jaw.

It’s like when they had kissed at cheerleader practice. It was some kind of gift, a secret, even though it was (ostensibly) a performance for Cheryl. Veronica had cupped her face that exact same way.

Now Veronica's grinning against Betty’s mouth, and they're laughing, and Betty feels dizzy - daring - tilting - Veronica’s hand on her thigh, pushing up higher, and she hears herself say yes. They’re moving to the beat of whatever song this is. The song’s not important, it’s distant, echoing, as they keep dancing. Well, grinding, really.

Betty closes her eyes. She’s floating and it’s like she’s unlocked some part of herself. She can do whatever she wants. This pushes her into a confession. “I - I’ve been sleeping with Jughead.” They haven’t told anyone. Her chest feels light, suspended; she’s jumped into the water and she’s floating.

“Oh, really?” Veronica asks. There’s no judgement in her voice, which suffuses Betty with relief. It seems that Veronica is more - intrigued? Like this is something she can follow, twist into a new and different thing. “And what’s that like?”

“It’s -” Her breath hitches. Veronica has climbed her hands higher, reaching that little inconsequential scrap of fabric. Betty suddenly reimagines Veronica’s fingers as Jughead’s, blurring what she’s done in the past and who she is, what she’s doing, here and now.

“What does he do to you?” Veronica asks and her voice is so dark, so alluring, that it almost soothes away the shock of her hand pressing right up between Betty’s legs.

“I let him - I let him come inside me,” Betty admits. She has to put her hand on Veronica’s shoulder to steady herself because Veronica’s massaging her now. Slow and gentle, but with a focused intent that makes Betty moan. “He fills me up - so much -” The next few words come out with a mumbled _oh my god_. “- that I feel it. All the time. I just - I walk to class and it drips right out of me.”

“Really,” Veronica says, but her tone is distracted. She seems to be a bit more focused on pulling down Betty’s underwear. Betty squirms a little to just get the damn thing off, and spreads her legs about hip-width apart to let Veronica in. “What does he feel like inside you?”

Betty whimpers. “So big - all thick and hard -” She gasps, then, as Veronica thrusts two of her fingers up inside her. Veronica curls them gently, pausing in the middle of a beckoning gesture to just rub her fingertips at that particularly nervy place.

She’s about to say something more when the light of the club shifts and she sees Jughead himself walking towards them. He looks intrigued, like Veronica had been.

Veronica turns, and the motion makes her fingers shift inside Betty, who moans again. She hears herself say yes, and yes and yes again, until it’s not even words anymore - just a whimpering thing. Betty goes back to kissing Veronica, and Veronica presses back in.

Jughead watches them. Betty doesn’t even know for how long, she’s lost in the pulsing between her legs and the frantic beating of her own fevered heart. It seems to draw Veronica into her, throbbing around her fingertips. And this draws Jughead in, too. Veronica kisses down to Betty’s neck, worrying the skin with her teeth, and Jughead kisses Betty’s mouth.

It’s like they’re taking care of her. Veronica holds her steady when Jughead kneels down in front of her. Of all the things that they’ve done together (that Betty has let him do to her), he’s never gone down on her. This feels even more intimate than fucking. She’s kissing Veronica while Jughead is kissing her clit, and Betty wants him to eat, and eat, and eat.

She feels greedy. It’s a full-body wanting that throbs all the way down her body, dark and serious. Jughead licks at her, cautious, holding her just at the edge of orgasm. Betty twists when they twist - Veronica sliding closer, lifting Betty’s leg over Jughead’s shoulder, and it’s almost as if this whole thing is choreographed, following some thin invisible line of desire.

Betty is wet, dripping all over Veronica’s fingers and into Jughead’s mouth. Veronica’s kisses muffle her moans. Jughead smells warm like beer, Veronica sharp like alcohol, and sweat underneath it all. Betty comes so hard it’s visceral. Flickers of every fantasy she’s ever had that ends in orgasm: images like a strobe light, like pictures, like slow motion.

“You think she’s ready for a load of your come?” Veronica asks. Her voice is soft, inquisitive, but nasty underneath and it makes Betty shiver.

Jughead looks up at them. His lips are kind of shiny. Slippery. “You told her?” he asks, directed at Betty. She nods dumbly, still panting and reeling, and lifts her leg away from Jughead’s shoulder to stand on shaking legs. Veronica soothes her through it: she slides her fingers back out carefully, and holds onto Betty’s arm while she kisses her cheek.

Veronica laughs quietly. “I will keep your kinky activities to myself,” she says, licking off her fingers. “This will stay between the three of us.”

Relief bubbles back up through Betty’s heart. She smiles at Veronica, who winks and fades out into the party as if to say _my work here is done_.

The clink of Jughead’s belt buckle snaps Betty into the present. She watches him reach into his jeans, his boxers, and adjust his cock. In the half-light of the club, she thinks she can see a dark, telling stain. He’s been leaking precome the whole time he ate her out.

It’s kind of ungainly, fucking like this in high heels, and Jughead’s got his jeans down around his ankles. Betty cups his ass for balance. Not only does this help, but it also seems to get him in deeper, flexing and pushing with rough thrusts. She whimpers, a little high pitched squeak, when his thrusts start getting even more uneven. He’s working through all of her come, sloppy and sticky, and it makes him groan with the effort.

“I fucking - make you,“ Jughead mutters, too sex-drunk to make complete sentences.

“Please,” Betty gasps out. She’s not exactly the most coherent right now herself.

Her orgasm was already half-there, really - Betty still hasn’t fully recovered from the one Veronica and Jughead gave her before - so this one just seems to hit that much more intensely. Jughead sighs, kissing her neck, her clavicle, letting her ride it out. He moans her name and somewhere in between desperate quivering, she can dimly feel each hot pulse as he follows behind her.

There’s no point trying to retrieve her underwear at this point - it’s long forgotten somewhere in this club - which means that Betty’s thighs are going to stay sticky for a long, long time. She takes Jughead’s hand and pulls him onto the dancefloor so they can let the noise and the lights take them somewhere new.


End file.
